Iˈve loved my motherˈs desk since I was just tall enough to sit above the top of it. Mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair , looking at the ink bottle , pens , and white paper, I decided that the action of writing must be a most wonderful thing in the world.

Years later, during her final illness, Mother kept different things for my sister and brother. " But the desk . " she said again. "is for Elizabeth. "

  I never saw her angry , and never saw her cry. I knew she loved me ; she just did it. But as a young girl. I wanted to have heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened. And a gulf   opened between us. I was " too emotional（易感动的) " . But she lived " on the surface（表面) ".

As years passed, I had my own family. l loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive（愿谅）me.

My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace— it seemed that nothing happened. I couldnˈt be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.

   But the present of her desk told me. as sheˈd never been able to. that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside— a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. It was my letter.

 "In any way you chose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. "

When I was a child, my parents often took me to an old house in a thick forest. No other children ever stayed there. I didn’t even have the choice of playing with a brother or sister.

I could never understand what the attraction of the house was, even for my parents, who enjoyed nothing better than to sit in silence with a good book. The woman in the house, my father’s distant cousin, was a terrible cook and her food was inedible.

One day, when I was wandering around the garden behind the house, I noticed a wooden house which had clearly been abandoned(被遗弃的). As I walked towards it, I heard a noise, like an animal moving hurriedly away. Then I saw a man with a long beard standing at the door. I was greatly surprised.

“Please don’t tell them you saw me,”he said.“They never use this place, and I have nowhere else to live.” “Don’t worry,”I said.“I won’t tell anyone. But are you all right out here? I mean—do you have enough to eat?”The old man shook his head.

The same evening, I took a small plastic bag into the dining room and, while no one was looking, emptied some of the food into it. Later, I got out of the back door secretly and gave the food to the old man, whose name I had discovered was Alan.

I had never seen anything else as lovely as the smile of satisfaction on Alan’s face when he ate the food. From then on, my visits to the old house had a purpose, and I enjoyed every minute of the rest of my stay.

 Are you sad that you don’t have a nice face? Are you worried that you are not cleverer than your classmates? If so, reading the story of Beethoven(贝多芬) may help you.

   Beethoven was born in a small city in Germany in 1770. His father was an actor and he always drank much. His mother was in bad health and she died when Beethoven was seventeen. They lived a poor life.

   Beethoven was a talented(有天赋的) child in music. At that time people thought he was as clever as Mozart. His father wanted to make money from his talent, so he told him to practice and play all the time. If he didn’t do that, his father would be angry with him and beat him. Beethoven was very short and ugly. He couldn’t hear well from the age of 22 and later he heard nothing. He once fell in love with three girls, but they all left him for some reasons at last. But all these didn’t make him give up music. He kept writing music, and later he became a great musician. On a snowy day in 1827, Beethoven died of illness. His life was so short that he didn’t leave much music. But people think he was one of the best musicians in the world.

   It's not easy to find a. person with the qualities of being a hero. I didn't really understand the meaning of the word "hero" until my third year in the college.

   If you saw her, you wouldn't think she really looks the part (看起来样子像那种人). but she is stronger than Superman. Her name is Sandra Keierleber. I first. met her at volleyball tryouts (选拔赛), but didn't notice anything special at first. As the week passed, however, she showed she had more heart than anyone. She stood out because she never gave up, no matter what.

   Sandra isn't the tallest or the fastest -- in fact, this was her first time playing volleyball and it showed -- but that didn't stop her. She was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. By the end of tryouts she had found a place in everyone's heart. When the name list for new members was put up, we all waited nervously as she checked. When she stood at the door and smiled happily, all we could do was cheer.

   After Sandra made the team, she worked even harder to improve her game. When she asked for help, we gladly taught her. She also became our fan, attending almost every school game and even joining us in the city games. We all like her, because she never thinks about doing things the easy way, or loses that smile. Because of her great exertion, she makes herself a true hero -- and my hero, too.

When an earthquake hit a small town, many houses fell down. After the earthquake, all the newspapers reported many stories about some of the families in trouble.

   One Sunday, when I was reading a newspaper, a special picture touched me. It gave the clothing sizes of each family member. I thought that this would be a good chance to teach my children to help those who were less lucky than themselves. I said to my seven-year-old twins, Brad and Brett, and three-year-old Meghan. “We have so much, and these poor people now have nothing. We’ll share what we have with them.”

   I filled a box with food and clothes. While I was doing this, I encouraged the boys to choose their toys and donate some of their less favourite things. Meghan watched quietly as the boys took out their old toys and games and put them together. Then she walked away. A few minutes later she came back with Lucy, her much-loved doll. She put the doll on top of the other toys. “Oh, dear” I said. “You don’t have to give Lucy. You love her so much. ”Meghan said, “Lucy makes me happy, Mommy. Maybe she’ll make another little girl happy, too. ” I looked at Meghan for a long moment. She taught me a lesson. It’s easy to give something that we don’t want any more, but harder to give what we love, isn’t it?

Several months ago, at the beginning of the school year, I heard of a young lady from a friend. She moved to our area(地区；区域) several days ago. She was a student from anther country and rented(租赁) a small apartment(公寓). My friend told me that she didn’t bring many things here. I got the young lady’s telephone number and called her. She told me that she slept on the floor the night before and felt a little cold.

As every mother knows, when our children are away from us, we worry about them, and everyone’s child is my child, too, even if he or she is 22 years old! So, I told some of my other friends about her situation(情况) and we decided to help her.

When we arrived at the lady’s apartment with all kinds of household goods(家庭用品), we found her apartment really empty(空的). We helped put the goods in their places.

She thanked us over and over again and asked if there was anything she could do to repay(报答) us. I told her, “Yes. Please remember when you have a chance to help others, try to help them.” With a smile on her face, she said she would.

 When Andrew was a student in a high school, his teacher asked him to write a passage about what he wanted to do when he grew up. That night he thought hard and worte a seven－page passage about his dream of having a horse ranch(牧场). And he even drew a picture of a 200－acre(亩) ranch. The next day he gave it to his teacher.

   Two days later he got his passage back. On the first page was a large F with some words, "Please see me after class."

   Andrew went to see his teacher after class and asked, "Why did I get an F?"

   The teacher said, "You have no money. Your parents have no money. Having a horse ranch needs a lot of money. You have to buy the land. You have to buy the horses. There's no way you could ever do it. If you write a passage again, I will change your grade."

   Andrew went back home and thought about it for a long time. The next day he gave the same passage, making no changes at all. He said to his teacher, "You can keep the F and I'll keep my dream."

   Now, Andrew has a 200－acre horse ranch.

 Mr. Black was a farmer. He lived alone by the forest. He had no daughters or sons. He planted rice and vegetables. Also, he sometimes caught small animals for food. So he kept two dogs to help him. One dog was big and the other was small. He liked them very much.

   One day, his friend Mr. Smith, another farmer, came to visit him. Mr. Black was very happy. They haven’t seen each other for about three years. When the friend saw two holes(洞) in the door, a big hole and a small hole, he was surprised and said, "My dear friend, why are there two holes in your door?" "Let my dogs come in and go out, of course. I finished cutting them just ten minutes ago. It took me three hours to finish the work." Mr. Smith asked again, "But why are there two holes? One is enough!" "But how can the big dog go through the small hole?" Mr. Black answered.

   Sometimes a clever man may make such mistakes.

I have a friend named Monty Roberts who owns a horse ranch(牧马场). The last time I was there he told me his story. When he was young, his family was too poor to have a house to live in.As a  result , when he was in high school, all the students were asked to write a paper about what they wanted to be and do when they grew up. That night he wrote a seven-page paper describing his goal of owning  a horse ranch. He also drew a picture to show a 4,000-square-foot house that would sit on a beautiful farm. The next day he handed it in to his teacher. Two days later he received his paper back. On the front page was a large red F. Roberts asked, “Why did I receive an F?” He teacher said, “This is an unrealistic dream for a young boy like you. Owning a horse ranch requires a lot of money.” Then the teacher added, “If you will rewrite this paper with a more realistic goal, I will reconsider your grade.”

The boy went home and thought about it for a long and hard time. He asked his father what he should do. His father said, “ Look, son, you have to make up your own mind on this. However, I think it is a very important decision for you.”Finally, after sitting with it for a week, the boy turned in the same paper, making no changes at all. He told his teacher “you could keep the F and I still keep my dream”.He tells me this story because I am sitting in his 4,000-square-foot house in the middle of the 200-acre horse ranch. “I still have that school paper now.” He added, “The best part of the story is that two years ago that teacher brought 30 kids to camp out on my ranch for a week.” When the teacher was leaving, he said, Look, Monty, I can tell you this now. When I was your teacher, I was something of a dream stealer. During those years I stole a lot of kids’dreams. Luckily, you had enough gumptionnot to give up on yours. ”

Don’t let anyone steal your dreams. Follow your heart, no matter what.